Work Text:
They’ve only been doing their ‘arrangement’ for a few weeks when Flora visits him in the lab for the first time since they started… whatever exactly this is. He’s still not quite sure how he should refer to any of this—between Flora being good friends with his younger brother (ideal, actually, he’s just concerned about how this could impact their friendship, especially because Flora and Frank being friends came first) and being the daughter of his employer (a bit less ideal, but he does like Doctor Cranley), he’s a bit wary of messing this whole ordeal up. But that’s fine; so far, there hasn’t been any conflict of interest on any account.
Jack keeps his attention on the fire he’s working with instead of pausing his work. It’s just an inopportune moment, but once he wraps up the flame testing he can do whatever he wants.
…once he wraps up the flame testing he can say hi to Flora.
He flicks his eyes up from the fire for just a second so he can see her: sure enough, she's talking to her father. Jack looks back down at his fire before she can notice him watching. He's still very much monitoring a fire, and he needs to keep his eyes on it.
He grabs his next stick and dips it into the compound, then holds it over the flame; the fire that emerges is a teal. Probably copper, then. He puts the flame out, then writes it in shorthand in his notebook before he sets aside that container of compound, then rips his paper out so that he can put it on the container. That one's done, so onto the next.
He dips another stick into a different compound mixture he hasn't tested yet. He puts it near the fire, watching as it goes purple, and he lets his eyes flick up again.
Flora's still talking to Doctor Cranley, but now Kemp's managed to make his way over, and Flora has that distinct 'being nice but would rather not be having this conversation right now' look in her eyes. She flicks her eyes over to him, and she blinks quickly.
Three short (S), three longer (O), then three short again. Jack puts his stick out as he watches her.
"Flora!" he calls, taking the hint for what it is. "Do you mind coming and helping me?"
She smiles and excuses herself from the conversation, coming to stand by him.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "It wouldn't be quite so bad, if he'd actually explain things,"
Jack stifles a laugh as he grabs for his pen and notebook. "I know. Here—can you write for me?"
"Sure," Flora agrees, pulling a chair close and sitting by him. "Which one did you just finish?"
"Potassium," he tells her, grabbing the container with that compound mixture and putting it close to her. "You can just put the paper underneath it once you're done,"
Flora nods, writing the name down and tearing out the paper while he grabs for another stick. He dips it into another compound, then puts that one into the flame—it's a light blue.
"Which one's that?" she asks, tapping the pen onto the new page she's on.
"Arsenic, lead, antimony, or zinc—you can put all four on the paper," he says, putting the stick out and grabbing the container. Flora writes the names down before she looks up at him, the corner of her mouth quirked into a small smile.
"Do you think Father would be mad if we used some?"
Jack laughs and leans to kiss the top of her head. He's relaxed now, and honestly—he's not sure why he was so worried before. "Depends on what for,"
Flora, wisely, doesn't elaborate, but Jack's fairly certain that he can see her train of thought. Instead, she rips this page and puts it with the container, then waits for him to do the next one.
This next stick comes out as a white, and he nudges her gently. "Beryllium, aluminium, or cobalt. Once I clean this up, we should be okay to go for a little bit,"
She nods and scribbles it down. "Alright. Do you want me to move anything?"
Jack considers for a moment, looking at his collection of compounds—not all of them are done, but he's gotten further than he'd expected and planned, so he can make his peace with it—as he turns the Bunsen burner off. "If you want to, we need to put the unorganised ones back in that cabinet," he points to one, "and the organised ones on the table until we can get a better label on them,"
Flora nods and grabs two of the containers, and he watches her for a moment before he follows suit. They should be able to half the time it would take—not that it would take long—as long as they don't get disturbed while they move.
They don't, and he's glad for it: it means that they can get outside faster.
Jack puts the last container away and puts the notebook that the two of them used to write the names of everything down on the table with the identified compounds then turns to look at Flora.
"Outside?" he asks, hands in his pockets.
"Outside," she agrees, slipping her arm in his easily—like she's meant to be there—and gently tugging him out of the lab. "We'll be back soon," she tells her father.
Jack, very maturely, does not stick his tongue out at Kemp as they leave.
Flora extracts her arm from Jack’s when he opens the door for her so she can exit first, and she waits for him outside but doesn’t take his arm back. Jack lets the door close as he puts his hands in his pockets, and he goes to stand by her, unable to keep a small smile off of his face.
“After you,” he says, inclining his head in a general vague direction. Flora starts walking, and he follows close behind her silently; it's not awkward or uncomfortable, there's just nothing to be said for the moment, and that's okay.
They walk next to each other in the garden, but they don't touch, instead two bodies in orbit with no physical ties. It's more akin to gravity; their affection for each other and the willingness to spend time together without anything to necessarily fill it keeping them together.
Flora veers closer, though, letting herself nudge Jack a few times. He takes what he hopes is the hint and brings his hand from his pocket, holding it out for her to take, which she does quickly and efficiently.
Fuck, her hand is cold.
Jack stops and turns to face her, grabbing her other hand and bringing both of them to his mouth and breathing on them gently. “Flora, your hands are freezing, we should go back inside,” he says with concern.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay,” she tells him easily, cheeks pink with the cold.
“We should—I can make some tea, we’ll get you warmed up,”
“Jack,” she says with more force. “I’m okay. It’s not so cold that I’ll get hypothermia, especially if we’re not outside for hours,”
Jack rubs her hands between his own before bringing them both back up to his mouth to blow on them gently. She lets out a small huff of laughter, condensation from her breath visible in the air, but stands stock-still, eyes never straying from him.
"Please?" he asks quietly, looking up at her. He's sure he looks no less worried, and she sighs.
"Jack, my love, I'm fine," she tells him, but she still doesn't extract her hand from his, instead looking at where they're joined. Jack rubs his thumb over her knuckle and exhales on them again, for good measure.
"Fine, but after—I'm making you tea," he insists.
Flora nods and swallows. "Okay,"
He releases her hands after a moment and starts taking his gloves off, holding them out for her to take. "Here. Until we can get in,"
Flora watches him for a moment, eyes scanning his face, but he's unyielding. She takes his gloves and slips them on carefully, then takes his arm. " Your hands will get cold,"
"I was just playing with fire, my hands are still warm," he says, and she's fairly certain that it's a bit of a lie. But he's adamant though not tense, and he seems pleased that her hands are gloved, so she's willing to let it slide.
"Fine. But you're getting tea, too," she threatens, and he looks over at her for a second before he nods.
Flora leans against the counter as Jack fills the kettle with water. She watches him carefully, still wearing his gloves, as he puts the lid back on and puts the kettle on the stove.
Then he turns to her. "What kind of tea do you want?"
She steps away, going to rifle through the cabinet for tea until she finds what she's looking for. Once she does, she holds up two sachets of lavender-and-chamomile tea.
"Is this okay, or do you want something else?" she asks. He looks over them briefly before he nods in agreement. At his okay, she closes the cabinet back and brings them over to him, handing them over easily so she can grab the cups easier. They're in a different cabinet, not far from the stove, and she grabs two matching ones and puts them on the counter with a smile. He turns his attention to the kettle.
They stand in the quiet of the kitchen together until the kettle squeals. When it does, Jack drops the teabags into both cups, then pours the hot water in after. He watches as the sachet starts to bleed a yellow that becomes light brown, twin drinks in complementary cups. The steam that rises from them reminds him of their walk earlier, Flora’s breath condensing in the cold. He could get comfortable doing this, like this, with her.
He pulls himself out of his thoughts when he feels Flora’s head come to rest on his back, between his scapulae. God, he’s been talking to his brother too much. Frank’s been studying the bones in the torso recently, and chattering to Jack about it like his life depends on it; he loves his brother to death, but Jack’s not a medical student, he’s a chemist.
He shifts so that he can put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side while they watch the kettle. It's quiet again.
"Do you want honey?" she asks him after a moment.
"Sure," he agrees. "I'll carry the cups to the table, if you want to get it out,"
She steps away with a nod, rifling through another cabinet until she finds the jar of honey, and she grabs a spoon before she joins him at the table. They both ladle out their desired amount of honey, and Flora stirs both cups with the same spoon before letting it sit by the jar.
It's not as awkward as it would be if he were with anyone else, he knows that for a fact, even as he just watches her across the table as she fiddles with her teacup.
"How was work?" she eventually asks him, but it's not hesitant; she's just taking everything slowly.
"It's been going well," he tells her. "The compounds got mislabelled, if you couldn't tell--that's why we were testing them earlier,"
Flora nods. "Right, like with the arsenic,"
"Exactly," Jack confirms. He takes a small sip of tea and almost scalds his tongue. There's a moment of quiet before either of them speaks again.
“I think that Kemp would be easy to poison with arsenic,” Flora says, mostly unprompted. Jack almost chokes on his sip of tea.
“Pardon?”
“Kemp would be easy to poison with arsenic,” she repeats.
“You’ve been thinking about poisoning Kemp?”
"I've been rereading The Mysterious Affair at Styles," Flora admits, blowing on her tea gently before taking a careful sip. Jack laughs.
"I'm not surprised, my dear," he says, shaking his head. He stirs his tea again. "I knew it couldn't just be the convenience of poisons,"
"It's both," Flora nods once, and Jack takes a sip of his own tea to hide his smile.
"Flora, my dear," he says with a shake of his head. He puts his tea down, then nudges her foot with his own under the table. "Are you encouraging murder?"
"No," she sighs. "I'm just... saying. I think that Kemp would be easy to poison. I also think you would be easy for me to poison, but that wouldn't be the best way,"
"And poisoning Kemp would be?"
"Well—I haven't put that much thought into how I would kill the people around me!" Flora laughs. "Fine, what would you do?"
"Something that would be easy to make look like an accident," Jack leans back in his chair, eyeing her carefully. "We don't want to get caught in this scenario,"
"This is true," she agrees. "But I think that poisoning wouldn't be that hard, or too easy to trace back. In this hypothetical, at least,"
Jack grabs his cup and takes another sip. "Flora, my love, you are the most fascinating conversation partner," he decides. She laughs at him outright, not even trying to hide it, and Jack can't repress his smile.
"I'm glad I could be a help," she teases. "We'll have to read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd,"
"We haven't even finished Jekyll and Hyde,"
Flora raises an eyebrow. "I don't believe that it's not giving you ideas," she tells him. "I don't think that you need to read a story about a man experimenting on himself, going missing, and ending up dead,"
Jack opens his mouth to protest, but at the look that Flora gives him, he reconsiders. "I'm enjoying it," he says instead. "And it's short,"
Flora nods. "It is both of those things," she agrees. "We're almost done with it, so we should figure out the next thing to read," she says, much more seriously now. Jack feels like a weight has lifted from his shoulders. Good—she's not actually too concerned about him disappearing. Because he won't.
" The Murder of Roger Ackroyd it is," he decides. She nudges him with her foot under the table, this time, and takes a sip of tea, but doesn't respond.
Jack looks out the window. It's cold but the sun is out, and Flora's foot is a welcome pressure against his own. The tea is still warm enough to steam, and there's enough water for Flora's father to get some tea if he chooses to. It's idyllic . The humour of the calm in the midst of a conversation like the one that they're having isn't lost on him.
If the way that Flora stifles her laughter in her tea is any indication, then it's safe to say that it's not lost on her either.